The Play's the Thing
by AgentNerd
Summary: Peter's hiding something from Tony. Tony might not actually be Peter's father, but he knows how to embarrass him just like one.


Winter had come to New York City, and the snow, ice, and ridiculously freezing weather had brought with it all sorts of problems and inconveniences. That particular morning's f-you happened to be some emergency maintenance occurring on the subway line Peter usually took to school, shutting it down for the day. He was apparently completely fine with walking the nearly twenty minutes to get there in subzero temperatures, but May was decidedly not. She'd called Tony to see if he could send Happy, but it was driver's day off. Tony himself, however, had gotten into the city early that morning in anticipation of an afternoon meeting and was entirely happy to lend his services. He had to admit, though, as he pulled up to the Parkers' apartment building that his willingness to chauffer had something of an ulterior motive behind it.

Something was up with the kid.

They'd formed something of a familiarity with each other, ever since Homecoming. Peter normally came up to the compound at least once or twice each week to work on suit upgrades, or tinker on projects, or sometimes just watch movies and chat. He was a good kid, and Tony enjoyed spending the time with him. Enjoyed mentoring him, even, if he was bold enough to admit to the word. It felt nice to have someone look up to him, to have a smart kid he could impart knowledge onto and have it be appreciated. It gave him a weird, fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he thought about it.

Recently, though, the kid seemed to be ignoring him. He'd stopped coming up to the compound, sending overexcited texts about upgrade ideas, leaving voicemails to either him or Happy with Spider-Man reports—basically leaving him in the dust. Tony was determined to find out what was going on, and driving the kid to school was the perfect opportunity to do so.

"Morning, Pete," Tony greeted cheerfully as Peter kicked the grey sidewalk slush off his shoes on the edge of the passenger door before sliding inside completely and pulling on his seatbelt. He grumbled something that might have resembled a greeting in response, quickly followed by a yawn.

Tony pulled out from his spot on the curb and started towards the direction of Midtown. "It's been a while."

"Mmm-hmm," Peter was typing out a text on his phone, not really paying too much attention. Just a couple of short months ago, the kid would've been nearly hyperventilating at the chance for one-on-one time with his hero on the way to school. Tony wasn't sure if his disinterest proved just how much more comfortable their relationship had become, or if it was a further attempt at hiding whatever was going on.

"So I figured the spider-suit could use some upgrades to its thermal regulation system since it's been negative ridiculous degrees outside recently. I was thinking you could come up after school today to work on them. I can even pick you up—I'll be downtown in meetings until you get out anyway. Whaddya say?"

"Huh?" Peter looked up from his phone. "Oh, sorry Mr. Stark, I can't today."

They stopped at a red light, and Tony tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in impatience. "Come on, kid, this is the third night this week you've bailed out on me. What gives? Is my multi-million dollar compound and laboratory not cool enough for you anymore?"

"No, it is! I'm just busy. You know," Peter trailed off lamely.

"I know it's not patrolling since your suit hasn't registered any activity for a week now. What, do you have a girlfriend or something?" Tony raised his eyebrows suggestively. Maybe embarrassment would get an explanation out of him.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," Peter agreed. "It's MJ, I told you that weeks ago. But that's not it—"

"Going out on secret dates?" he pushed on, completely ignoring Peter's protests. "Wait, have you been—"

"I've been in rehearsal!" Peter finally admitted, not daring to allow Tony to finish that thought.

"Rehearsal?" Tony frowned in contemplation. "I thought you quit band."

"I did. It's a theatre rehearsal…for a play." He seemed to shrink down in his seat, but reluctantly pulled out a slightly-crumpled flyer from his bag and passed it over. Tony tore his eyes from the road for a quick moment to give it a once-over. _Hamlet_, the flyer advertised above a frankly horrendous clip-art skull surrounded by swords and flowers.

"You're in a play? How come I didn't know about this?" he was, frankly, shocked. It most certainly was not the answer he was expecting—though he supposed it was better than the kid admitting to going on benders every night or something.

Peter threw up his hands in defeat. "Because I didn't want you to know! I didn't want anyone to know! I didn't even tell May—she'll be working all weekend, and that's just fine with me—"

"I mean, I know you're dramatic, kid, but I didn't know you were an actor."

"I'm not," Peter grumbled, "I was tricked into it. MJ is the charge artist for the show—that means she's in charge of painting everything, Mr. Stark—"

"I know theatre," Tony interrupted, waving his hand in the air dismissively.

"Okay, well anyway, she desperately needed help, emphasis on the desperate, so she asked me to come in after school a few days a week to paint some stuff. And I tried, but I wasn't very good, but then the theatre director saw me and apparently not enough boys had auditioned for the play and the next thing I knew, I was in the cast."

Green light. Tony pushed ahead. "You could've just said no if you didn't want to do it."

"Well…"

Tony gave him a pointed look.

"Do you remember that time we had to stop that budding crime conglomerate from holding Wall Street hostage with alien-tech weapons? I _might_ have had a big test in English the next day. And I _might_ have forgotten to study for it after all that excitement and stuff."

"Peter—"

"Okay, I'm failing English. But!" Peter held up his hands in defense, "The director of this play happens to be my English teacher, and she said that if I participate and memorize all my lines and stuff she'll give me extra credit!"

"Okay then. So who do you play?"

"Hamlet."

"No. I know the name of the play, I asked who do you play?"

"…Hamlet. Prince of Denmark? To be or not to be?" Peter stressed.

Tony looked at him dumbly. "Hold on. You're telling me you're the _lead_ in a school play, and you just weren't going to tell anyone?"

"Please don't come," Peter begged.

"Oh, you better bet I'm coming," Tony assured, a wicked grin on his face. To think, he'd actually been worried about the kid when he woke up this morning only to have been given this absolute _gift_ now. It was his birthday. It was Christmas come early. "And you know, Pepper's a sucker for the classics. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see it too."

Peter groaned.

...

"Mr. Stark, are you planning on recording? I don't think you can do that," Peter said anxiously as he fumbled with a makeup sponge. As the lead, he'd gotten one of the two private dressing rooms backstage, and Tony had decided to go back and tell him to break a leg before the show.

"Shakespeare died four hundred years ago, I'm pretty sure we're in the public domain category here. Besides," he pressed a button on the camcorder he was currently filming Peter with and the screen went dark. "I can turn the illumination off. Won't bother anyone."

"I hate you."

"But your aunt loves me. I've promised to send her the first copy."

"You're the worst. And why are you dressed like you're going to the Met?" Peter asked, gesturing to the sleek black suit he was wearing. Tony grinned.

"Going to the theatre is a special occasion. If you think I look good, you should see Pepper." Absolutely stunning in the emerald green designer gown she was wearing. Tony knew them dressing up would embarrass Peter, and she'd been entirely onboard as soon as he'd mentioned the idea to her. God, he loved her. And she had more than a soft spot for the kid.

"I still think this is entirely unnecessary. You didn't have to come, I—_oh god, I'm gonna be sick_," he mumbled, and Tony quickly set the camera down and leaned over to push the wastebasket between Peter's feet. The kid hunched over and took a few, heaving breaths, but luckily nothing came out.

"Hey, just keep breathing, you'll be alright," Tony said, patting his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. After a moment, Peter seemed alright enough to sit back up.

"Mr. Stark, I don't think I can do this."

"What? You know all the lines, don't you?" He'd been mumbling the entire play under his breath for the past week, to the point that Tony questioned whether he actually had Kenneth Branagh as an intern instead of a geeky, science-obsessed fifteen-year-old boy.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And you know your blocking?"

"I think so, but Mr. Stark…"

"Look, this is a high school theatre production—a _STEM_ high school theatre production. No one is expecting Olivier here," Tony reasoned.

Peter sighed, "I know, you're right, but I'm just so nervous."

"Every actor gets stage fright at some point in their lives. It's normal. Hell, right before I went onstage for the first time, I puked right in the shoes a crew member had set up for a quick change."

Peter's eyes went wide. "_You_ were an actor?"

"Once," Tony clarified. "Lost a bet and auditioned for _West Side Story_ in college. Ended up being cast as Riff."

"Wait, it was a _musical_?"

Tony waved a hand, "Not important. The point is, as soon as I got onstage and started saying my lines, my stage fright went away. I did it, and so will you. And Pep and me and all your friends will be right there in the audience supporting you. Got it?"

"Yeah," Peter took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Tony squeezed his shoulder and picked his camera back up from the dressing room counter. A voice came over the intercom and announced that there were five minutes to curtain as Tony went to leave the room. He paused just for a moment in the doorway. "And once it's over, we'll go out for ice cream. Sound good?"

Peter cracked a smile for the first time that evening. "Sounds great."

...

"Peter!" Pepper exclaimed as he approached them outside the auditorium after the play. She threw her arms around him and placed a kiss on the boy's now very red cheek. "You were amazing, congratulations."

"Thanks, Ms. Potts," Peter replied, embarrassed. He was spared from the moment by MJ, still dressed in crew blacks, coming up behind him and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, he did alright," she said with a smile.

Pepper laughed and took the large bouquet of flowers that had been cradled in Tony's arms. "And happy opening to you too, Michelle. The sets look beautiful," she congratulated, holding them out to MJ. It was now her turn to be flustered as she accepted the gift with a quiet thanks.

"I especially loved the part where Rosencrantz elbowed Guildenstern in the face. Don't remember that part from the play, but boy was it exciting," Tony said.

"Yeah, that wasn't supposed to happen…" Peter explained. "But Sam's nose isn't broken, so it's okay."

"Well thank god for that. Anyway, up for some ice cream now, Prince of Denmark?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "Just hold on, let me text Ned. I think he got lost in this sea of people." He gestured to the massive amounts of students and parents in the lobby.

"Michelle you're absolutely welcome to come too, it's our treat," Pepper added.

MJ smiled, "I'll never turn down free ice cream. Besides, you have to hear the story about how this nerd forgot his sword during final dress and tried to fight Laertes with a pen in his pocket."

"I panicked!" Peter defended as Tony started to laugh, "And you promised you wouldn't tell!"

"It's too good _not_ to tell," MJ said with a grin.

Peter glanced at a new message on his phone, then looked out into the crowd. "I see Ned! Let's just get him and go get ice cream, yeah?" He charged ahead to corral his friend, and MJ followed close behind. Tony turned to Pepper.

"I can't believe he wasn't going to tell anyone about this."

"I know," Pepper commented. "You'll have to watch out, he might just decide to pursue acting instead of engineering."

"Never. I'd disinherit him," Tony joked, but then he paused. Looked over to where Ned was giving Peter a hug. "…but he was pretty good, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I'm proud of him too," Pepper agreed, taking his hand and squeezing it.


End file.
